Emily Brontë
they could not play to make up histories, dramas, and fairy tales, in
which each let loose, without noise, without fear of check, the fancies
they never tried to put into action as other children are wont to.
Charlotte wrote tales of heroism and adventure. Emily cared more for
fairy tales, wild, unnatural, strange fancies, suggested no doubt in
some degree by her father's weird Irish stories. Already in her nursery
the peculiar bent of her genius took shape.
Meanwhile the regular outer life went on--the early rising, the dusting
and pudding-making, the lessons said to their father, the daily portion
of sewing accomplished in Miss Branwell's bedroom, because that lady
grew more and more to dislike the flagged flooring of the sitting-room.
Every day, some hour snatched for a ramble on the moors; peaceful times
in summer when the little girls took their sewing under the stunted
thorns and currants in the garden, the clicking sound of Miss Branwell's
pattens indistinctly heard within. Happy times when six children, all in
all to each other, told wonderful stories in low voices for their own
entrancement. Then, one spring, illness in the house; the children
suffering a complication of measles and whooping-cough. They never had
such happy times again, for it was thought better that the two elders
should go away after their sickness; should get their change of air at
some good school. Mr. Bronte made inquiries and heard of an institution
established for clergymen's daughters at Cowan's Bridge, a village on
the high road between Leeds and Kendal. After some demurring the school
authorities consented to receive the children, now free from infection,
though still delicate and needing care. Thither Mr. Bronte took Maria
and Elizabeth in the July of 1824. Emily and Charlotte followed in
September.
CHAPTER III.
COWAN'S BRIDGE.
"It was in the year 1823 that the school for clergymen's daughters was
first projected. The place was only then contemplated as desirable in
itself, and as a place which might probably be feasible at some distant
day. The mention of it, however, to only two friends in the South having
met with their warm approbation and a remittance of L70, an opening
seemed to be made for the commencement of the work.
"With this sum in hand, in a reliance upon Him who has all hearts at his
disposal, and to whom belong the silver and the gold, the premises at
Cowan's Bridge were purchased, the necessary repairs and additions
proceeded with, and the school was furnished and opened in the spring of
1824. The whole expense of the purchase and outfit amounted to L2333
17_s._ 9_d._
"The scanty provision of a large portion of the clergy of the
Established Church has long been a source of regret; and very efficient
means have been adopted in various ways to remedy it. The sole object of
the Clergy Daughters' School is to add, in its measure, to these means,
by placing a good female education within reach of the poorest clergy.
And by them the seasonable aid thus afforded has been duly appreciated.
The anxiety and toil which necessarily attend the management of such an
institution have been abundantly repaid by the gratitude which has been
manifested among the parents of the pupils.
"It has been a very gratifying circumstance that the Clergy Daughters'
School has been enabled to follow up the design of somewhat kindred
institutions in London. Pupils have come to it as apprentices from the
Corporation of the Sons of the Clergy; and likewise from the Clergy
Orphan School, in which the education is of a limited nature and the
pupils are not allowed to remain after the age of sixteen.
"The school is situated in the parish of Tunstall, on the turnpike road
from Leeds to Kendal, between which towns a coach runs daily, and about
two miles from the town of Kirkby Lonsdale.
"Each pupil pays L14 a year (half in advance) for clothing, lodging,
boarding, and educating; L1 entrance towards the expense of books, and
L3 entrance for pelisses, frocks, bonnets, &c., which they wear all
alike.[2] So that the first payment which a pupil is required to bring
with her is L11; and the subsequent half-yearly payment L7. If French,
music, or drawing is learnt, L3 a year additional is paid for each of
these.
"The education is directed according to the capacities of the pupils and
the wishes of their friends. In all cases the great object in view is
their intellectual and religious improvement; and to give that plain and
useful education which may best fit them to return with respectability
and advantage to their own homes; or to maintain themselves in the
different stations of life to which Providence may call them."
... Here comes some explanation of the treasurer's accounts. Then the
report recommences:--
"Low as the terms are, it has been distressing to discover that in many
cases clergymen who have applied on behalf of their daughters have been
unable to avail themselves of the benefits of the school from the
inadequacy of their means to raise the required payments.
"The projectors' object will not be fully realised until the means are
afforded of reducing the terms still lower, in extreme cases, at the
discretion of the committee. And he trusts that the time will arrive
when, either by legacies or otherwise, the school may be placed within
the reach of those of the clergy for whom it is specially
intended--namely, the _most_ destitute.
"The school is open to the whole kingdom. Donors and subscribers gain
the first attention in the recommendation of pupils; and the only
inquiry made upon applications for admission is into the really
necessitous circumstances of the applicant.
"There are now ninety pupils in the school (the number that can be
accommodated) and several are waiting for admission.
"The school is under the care of Mrs. Harben, as superintendent, eight
teachers, and two under-teachers.
"To God belongs the glory of the degree of success which has attended
this undertaking, and which has far exceeded the most sanguine
expectations. But the expression of very grateful acknowledgment must
not be wanting towards the many benefactors who have so readily and so
bountifully rendered their assistance. They have their recompense in the
constant prayers which are offered up from many a thankful heart for all
who support this institution."
Thus excellently and moderately runs the fourth year's report of the
philanthropic Gymnase Moronval, evangelical Dotheboys Hall, familiar to
readers of 'Jane Eyre.' When these congratulations were set in type,
those horrors of starvation, cruelty, and fever were all accomplished
which brought death to many children, and to those that lived an
embittering remembrance of wrong. The two Bronte girls who survived
their school days brought from them a deep distrust of human kindness, a
difficult belief in sincere affection, not natural to their warm and
passionate spirits. They brought away yet more enfeebled bodies, prone
to disease; they brought away the memory of two dear sisters dead. "To
God be the glory," says the report. Rather, let us pray, to the Rev.
William Carus Wilson.
The report quoted above was issued six years after the autumn in which
the little Brontes were sent to Cowan's Bridge; it was not known then in
what terms one of those pale little girls would thank her benefactors,
would speak of her advantages. She spoke at last, and generations of
readers have held as filthy rags the righteousness of that institution,
thousands of charitable hearts have beat high with indignation at the
philanthropic vanity which would save its own soul by the sufferings of
little children's tender bodies. Yet by an odd anomaly this ogre
benefactor, this Brocklehurst, must have been a zealous and
self-sacrificing enthusiast, with all his goodness spoiled by an
imperious love of authority, an extravagant conceit.
It was in the first year of the school that the little Bronte girls left
their home on the moors for Cowan's Bridge. It was natural that as yet
many things should go wrong and grate in the unperfected order of the
house; equally natural that the children should fail to make excuses:
poor little prisoners pent, shivering and starved, in an unkind asylum
from friends and liberty.
The school, long and low, more like an unpretending farmhouse than an
institution, forms two sides of an oblong. The back windows look out on
a flat garden about seventy yards across. Part of the house was
originally a cottage; the longer part a disused bobbin-mill, once turned
by the stream which runs at the side of the damp, small garden. The
ground floor was turned into schoolrooms, the dormitories were above,
the dining-room and the teachers'-room were in the cottage at the end.
All the rooms were paved with stone, low-ceiled, small-windowed; not
such as are built for growing children, working in large classes
together. No board of managers would permit the poorest children of our
London streets to work in such ill-ventilated schoolrooms.
The bobbin-mill, not built for habitation, was, no doubt, faulty and
insufficient in drainage. The situation of the house, chosen for its
nearness to the stream, was damp and cold, on a bleak, unsheltered
plain, picturesque enough in summer with the green alders overhanging
the babbling beck, but in winter bitter chill. In this dreary house of
machines, the place of the ousted wheels and springs was taken by ninety
hungry, growing little human beings, all dressed alike in the coarse,
ill-fitting garments of charity, all taught to look, speak, and think
alike, all commended or held up to reprobation according as they
resembled or diverged from the machines whose room they occupied and
whose regular, thoughtless movement was the model of their life.
These children chiefly owed their excellent education, their miserable
food and lodging, to the exertions of a rich clergyman from Willingdon,
the nearest village. The Rev. Carus Wilson was a person of importance in
the neighbourhood; a person who was looked to in emergencies, who prided
himself on his prudence, foresight, and efficiency in helping others.
With this, none the less a man of real and zealous desire to do good, an
energetic, sentient person capable of seeing evils and devising
remedies. He wished to help: he wished no less that it should be known
he had helped. Pitying the miserable conditions of many of his
fellow-workers, he did not rest till he had founded a school where the
daughters of the poor clergy should receive a fair education at a
nominal price. When the money for the school was forthcoming, the
property was vested in twelve trustees; Mr. Wilson was one. He was also
treasurer and secretary. Nearly all the work, the power, the
supervision, the authority of the affair, he took upon his shoulders. He
was not afraid of work, and he loved power. He would manage, he would be
overseer, he would guide, arrange, and counsel. So sure did he feel of
his capacity to move all springs himself, that he seems to have
exercised little pains and less discretion in appointing his
subordinates. Good fortune sent him a gentle, wise, and noble woman as
superintendent; but the other teachers were less capable, some snappish,
some without authority. The housekeeper, who should have been chosen
with the greatest care, since in her hands lay the whole management and
preparation of the food of these growing children, was a slovenly,
wasteful woman, taken from Mr. Wilson's kitchen, and much believed in by
himself. Nevertheless to her door must we lay much of the misery of
"Lowood."
The funds were small and somewhat uncertain. Honour and necessity alike
compelled a certain economy. Mr. Wilson contracted for the meat, flour,